


You're The Sunflower

by captain_lion18



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alcohol Use (but it's fun alcohol use dw), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, I really recommend listening to Sunflower while reading this, It's Sunflower from Into the Spiderverse, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Song Lyrics, just stupid house and wilson being stupid in love, pure fluff, some sexual language but no actual smut here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 06:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_lion18/pseuds/captain_lion18
Summary: James Wilson can't get that stupid song out of his head, and Thirteen investigates why.





	You're The Sunflower

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably one of the most self-indulgent things I’ve ever written in my whole life. I blame a winter-break House rewatch and impending Organic Chemistry-related doom. Anyway, the timeline in this story is really screwy, but it’s set about a year and a half after Amber’s death; basically, the House-Wilson reunion in 5x4 goes a little further than it did in canon – House never starts hallucinating, and never goes to rehab. Also, Kutner never kills himself, and Foreman and Thirteen are dating earlier than they did in the show. Also Cuddy had already adopted Rachel and she’s somehow a toddler? And it’s only 2009-ish but the song “Sunflower” and Spotify already exist? What? Huh? I don’t know. I have no answers. I hope you’ll forgive the inconsistencies and instead just enjoy the cloying products of my boredom-riddled brain. This story was born out of not only my love for the song “Sunflower” but also my love for the Wilson-Thirteen dynamic showcased in 6x16. I wish that friendship had been explored further, and in this story I’ve decided to make them pretty good buddies.
> 
> If there are any typos, let me know, I wrote this in 3 hours so there are bound to be some issues. Lastly, go see Into the Spider-Verse in theaters! I don’t even like Marvel, but this film was great! Also, if anyone has any tips for how to get “Sunflower” out of my head I’d really appreciate it.

_And you'll be left in the dust, unless I stuck by ya_

_You're a sunflower, I think your love would be too much_

_Or you'll be left in the dust, unless I stuck by ya_

_You're the sunflower, you're the sunflower_

James Wilson restarts the song. He feels like an idiot – this song is for _children_ , but here he is, a middle-aged medical doctor, listening to it over and over again, thinking about his boyfriend, like a love struck idiot. He’s just glad that House doesn’t have access to his spotify history. They’ve been dating for 11 whole months and have known each other for much longer but somehow the bastard still manages to make him feel like a goddamned teenager.

Cuddy knows about them, and he still remembers the shit-eating grin she had when she asked House why Rachel said “like uncle house and uncle wilson!” when she saw a news report about gay marriage that included two men kissing.

Thirteen apparently figures it out, because one day she barges into House’s office with a similar scatological smile.

“Are you sleeping with Wilson?” she asks.

House is inscrutable. “Are you sleeping with Foreman?”

“I thought you were straight,” Thirteen fires back.

“I thought you were gay.”

Thirteen rolls her eyes and walks out of the office, and House grabs for his phone.

_mayday mayday 13 coming she knows deny everything!11!!_

Wilson looks at the text and grins like an idiot. His door opens and he takes out his earphones.

“So, how long have you been sleeping with House?” she asks.

“One year next Friday,” he says.

Thirteen’s eyes widen, like she can’t believe that just worked.

“How do I know you guys aren’t fucking with me?”

He holds up his phone to her and scrolls through his texts with House.

“Huh,” she says.

“Yeah,” he replies.

“So I have a patient to LP,” she says, “but we’re going to talk about this later. Dinner tonight, my place?”

Wilson narrows his eyes. “Oh-kayyy?”

“What, do you have to ask your boyfriend for permission?” Thirteen prods. Wilson gives her a dirty look. “Bring wine,” she says, “around 8,” and leaves. Wilson puts his head in his hands and groans. He puts his earphones back in and tries to get back to work.

 

_I know you're scared of the unknown_

_You don't wanna be alone_

_I know I always come and go_

_But it's out of my control_

Wilson gets to Thirteen’s apartment at 8:01pm with a bottle of red that cost too much and his earphones blasting. Thirteen’s apartment reminds him of a meatpacking plant turned art gallery he went to once when he was a med student in New York. Except homier. He feels a little dizzy, which could be from the third of the bottle he drained while coming over here. He hasn’t pre-gamed for something since college, but tonight it felt right.

After they’ve finished the sushi and the rest of the bottle Thirteen pulls out a tray of brownies from the oven.

Wilson almost laughs. “Those aren’t what I think they are,” he says slowly, trying not to slur. When he became such a lightweight he’s not sure.

“Well, I was going to ask you to bring some of those joints you roll for patients, but that felt a little unethical,” she replies.

“Uh, yeah!” he says. “I’m not….I’m not eating those.”

Thirteen shrugs, and takes a bite. “Do what you want,” she says. “Just thought my interrogation would be more fun for you this way.”

“I’m not...I'm not a murder suspect,” he says.

“No, but you’ve been secretly dating House for a year, which is sort of close.”  


Wilson shakes his head. “…And he’d _kill_ me if I came home stoned.”

Thirteen snorts. “Bull. Shit! And you know it!”

Wilson knows she’s right. And the brownies look so fucking good….

He takes a bite and wonders if this qualifies as a mid-life crisis.

27 minutes later they’re lying on the floor of Thirteen’s living room. Wilson stares up at the high ceiling and tries to estimate how many of him he’d have to stack to reach it.

“So,” she says. “Are you happy?”

“I feel fucking _great_ ,” he says dreamily.

“No, I mean with _House_ ,” she clarifies.

Wilson laughs. “Oh. Same there, I guess. It’s…great. He’s great. I’m great,” Wilson stammers.

“Tell me more,” she says.

Wilson closes his eyes. “It’s still…he’s still House, you know. It’s not perfect. He’s a pain in the ass. And an addict. But now he’s the pain-in-the-ass-addict who sleeps with me, which is cool.”

“Yeah,” Thirteen says, looking at the purple tie draped over her armchair. “I know the feeling.”

“I think I always wanted to…be with him, even if I didn’t realize it. But it was so impossible, I didn’t even try. And I loved my wives, I did. And I really really loved Amber. She was incredible…But then she was gone. I was so angry when she died. At House, at myself, mostly, for still loving him, after everything. And just when I thought we were done, like really done, it just…happened. I went to his apartment to tell him off one last time after his dad’s funeral and he kissed me and I guess that was it,” Wilson finished. He felt so incredibly awkward like this, wasted and high, lying on Thirteen’s floor babbling like a teenage girl. “It’s not perfect,” he repeats. “We fight a lot, and he’s still a bastard, but he’s my best friend.”

Thirteen just nods through it all, like this is a totally normal conversation. “He’s got you pretty bad, huh,” she says.

“ _So_ bad,” he says. “I hate it.” He knows he’s going to regret telling her what he says next, but he can’t help himself. He knows this was her plan all along, to get him sloshed enough to spill all the sordid details, but by now he takes manipulation as a fact of life. “He gave me a blowjob at my parents' house.”

Thirteen widens her eyes. “I want to say no he didn’t, but that totally sounds like something he would do.”

"Uh-huh,” Wilson says, “in my childhood bedroom. He didn’t want to go to my parents’ for Thanksgiving, so I had to promise him he could do it. I think the part of me that he hasn’t traumatized yet really thought it was a joke. But then halfway during dinner he pretended to take a call and said we needed to ‘consult’ on some case, and he took me into my room, and just…you know, had his way with me.”

Thirteen cracks up. “I’m not gonna lie to you, but that sounds…kind of hot. As high school as it is.”

Wilson flails his arms. “It was! Incredibly hot! And _so_ high school. I was terrified someone was going to walk in the whole time but that just made it…hotter”

“You’re such a a _slut_ , James Wilson.”

“I know,” he says, covering his face with his hands, “it’s terrible.”

Later on, Wilson makes a request.

“Please don’t tell anyone about us,” Wilson says. “Cuddy knows, but we really want to keep it between us.”

“Of course I won’t tell,” she says. “I’m the fucking secret _queen_.”

“True.”

“Plus, the blackmail potential is too good,” she adds. Wilson groans.

“How did you even find out?” he asks.

“Actually, you might was to ask Foreman that.”

_“Foreman?”_

“Foreman.”

“For god’s sake…”

“But he didn’t want to do anything about it. Didn’t want to fuck up House’s good mood. But I, on the other hand, had no such reservations.”

“Demons, all of you. I wish House would hire dumber fellows,” he says.

He thinks about asking for another brownie.

 

_Every time I'm leavin' on ya_

_You don't make it easy, no_

_Wish I could be there for ya_

_Give me a reason to, oh_

_Every time I'm walkin' out_

_I can hear you tellin' me to turn around_

_Fightin' for my trust and you won't back down_

_Even if we gotta risk it all right now, oh_

House gets a text from Thirteen at 1:38am.

_come collect_ _ur mans_

If anyone asked Gregory House why he was sitting on the couch watching TV at 1:38am on a Wednesday night he would say that he was waiting for a particularly juicy rerun of _Wonder Showzen_ to come on, but hey, everybody lies. The truth is that it’s hard to sleep with the little niggling worry regarding the whereabouts of a certain oncologist who he may or may not share a bed with, and maybe, just maybe, knowing that that oncologist is somewhere with a numerically-designated former wild-child actually makes the worry just a bit (read: a lot bit) more than a _little_ niggling.

House shows up at her apartment at 2:02am. Thirteen is practically carrying him. “Is he drunk?” House spots the red in both of their eyes, “…and stoned?”

Thirteen smiles unevenly. “ _You’re_ the diagnostician.”

“Hi House.” Wilson waves weakly and sounds far away. “Sorry it’s so late. Sorry. Stupid, stupid, didn’t look at my watch.”

House glares at Thirteen, who looks more than a little disheveled herself. He lets her drape Wilson on his good side but it still fucking hurts. “Come on, delinquent,” he says as they walk slowly down the hallway. “I’m not mad, just disappointed,” he teases. “Did you at least have fun?”

"Sooooo much fun,” Wilson says.

“Good.”

Before they get to the front door of the apartment building, Wilson suddenly hugs House close to him. House freezes.

“You’re the sunflower,” Wilson half-whispers into House’s ear.

“I’m the what?”

“Or maybe I’m s’possed to be the sunflower. I don’t know. I don’t really know what that song is talking about.”

“I have no idea what _you’re_ talking about.”

“I just….love you, okay? I really love you,” Wilson says. House softens and hugs back.

“Love me enough to walk yourself to my car?”

“Hmm,” Wilson says. “I don’t think so.” He drapes himself around House again. House makes a mental note to give Thirteen any particularly nasty procedures that may come up in the next decade.

The next day, Wilson calls in sick. But Thirteen shows up, totally unscathed, eyeliner picture-perfect, at 9am sharp.

“Fun night?” Foreman asks, kissing her in the locker room.

“The funnest,” she says.

"And the other guy?”

“He had fun, too. Not sure how he’ll feel this morning, though.”

Later, when House comes in at 10:38am, he brandishes his cane in her direction. “Bad influence!” he proclaims.

Taub and Kutner are totally baffled. Thirteen just smiles. “Okay, Mr. Sunflower,” she says. Later, when she’s in charge of the new case’s fecal analysis, she wonders if it was worth it. _Absolutely_ , she thinks, and wonders how much scheming it would take to get Wilson over for dinner again.


End file.
